Monochrome
by BlackSclera
Summary: "What do you mean you don't know? This is the Black Order we're talking about, Allen-kun!" she said. Allen sighed. "It's one of Master's cryptic orders. I don't know what to expect, either. The manifestation of Innocence has changed drastically throughout the years, and demons have long since ceased to exist, so it isn't entirely clear what the Black Order really exists for."
1. Chapter 1

" _Go to the Black Order. You'll be getting in without my recommendation."_

A slender arm heavily mottled with black rose to brush the white strands back out of his sight, his steely silver eyes pointedly focused on the open scenery provided by the windows that took up the entire wall from the ceiling down to the floor, a slightly troubled, if not disgruntled, frown marring his usually deadpan expression.

"Master, you can't be serious," he voiced incredulously, palming his left eye aggravatedly, "We don't have much time left. Now's not the time to be fooling around."

" _It's exactly because we don't have much time left that I'm sending you to the Black Order, idiot apprentice."_

He let out an indignant sound. "What do you mean?"

" _Quit asking questions and just do as I say. I already gave that poor excuse of a head officer with his severe sister-complex a heads-up. Go ask him for the details."_

The white-haired teen glanced at his phone in a way that suggested that he'd readily strangle the man to death if he was right in front of him, his reputation and position in the Black Order be damned. "Master, you're not making any sense."

There was an amused snort that told him that his master was well aware and that he didn't give a flying fuck.

" _If it makes you sleep better at night, go ahead and treat this as a direct order from a General. The next time we meet, you better be wearing the damn uniform."_

"Wait, Master-"

Cross ended the call with not even a farewell, leaving the teenager to seriously wonder if his master had finally gone senile. It would be understandable, really, not with the pressing responsibilities of being a General and the knowledge that it won't be long before the sworn enemy of the exorcists started a war.

He locked his phone and gently placed it on top of the counter which resembled a bar - no thanks to his master's so-called eloquent taste in architectural design - with his eyes still drawn to the skyscrapers and buildings that towered over the streets, neon lights colorful yet blinding to his eyes. For a brief moment, he let himself be distracted by the muted noise of the city, admiring the bustling crowd that made the night more alive than it was during daylight from his seat, his elbow propped on the counter and his chin resting on the back of his hand, before closing his eyes and heaving a sigh.

"Stupid master," he breathed out agitatedly as he took the opened bottle of wine on the counter and grabbed a glass. (He could only imagine how ecstatic Cross would be once he found out that he had, indeed, rubbed off on his apprentice with his drinking habits. Not that he had any plans of letting his master know anytime soon.) "What does he want me to do _now_?"

Pouring himself a generous amount and watching the pale amber liquid slosh inside the glass through slightly hooded eyes, he thought that it'd probably, like most things in his life, work itself out. Whatever he lacked in the luck department, the apt number of opportunities he received made up for it. He'd figure out what to do tomorrow.

He took a sip and resigned himself to drinking for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Leaving again?" a young beautiful woman asked from the desk that was situated in front of the building's entrance, her dark red eyes gaining a knowing gleam at the bag that the white-haired teen wore over his left shoulder. "It's been a while after you came back, too."

He went over to the table and handed the woman the key to his apartment, laughing sheepishly at the petulant pout on her face. "You know how Master is, Sachiko-san."

"It's Chomesuke, now," she told him in a reprimanding manner, keeping the key in her pocket and giving a small nod.

"Chomesuke?" Allen repeated curiously.

"Someone called me that, you see, and I thought it was cute." She grinned. "Ah, that reminds me," Chomesuke suddenly said as she reached for something from her desk, hands emerging with a small rectangular black box, "Someone stopped by and told me to give this to you. Didn't smell like gunpowder or explosives so I thought it must be safe."

"Did you recognize who they were?" Allen asked as he took it. Taking a closer look, he could vaguely make out the faint outline of the Black Order's crest on the box.

Chomesuke nodded, twirling her red locks around her finger. "An exorcist. Red hair, eyepatch, green bandana- he introduced himself as Lavi. He brought it here a day ago right after you returned. It's likely that he followed you here all the way from your previous mission but he didn't seem like he harbored any ill-intent so I let him off."

For a woman like Chomesuke, letting someone off can be considered a miracle. She was a demon modified by none other than his Master, serving to guard this establishment and, by extension, protect Allen from the few people who were familiar with the rumors that shrouded his identity. More often than not, said people would follow him back to this place with different intentions - information gathering, murder, exploitation, confirmation, etc. - and, when faced with the predicament of not knowing which room he was in, would resort to beating the information out of Chomesuke.

Whenever that happens, the seemingly cute woman takes great pleasure in taking care of them in the most brutal methods imaginable.

(She _was_ a demon, after all.)

"I see. The Head Officer must have sent him after being talked to by Master."

Chomesuke stared at him for a while. "...why would Master talk to someone from the Black Order? The Head Officer, no less." And then her red eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me… you're going _there_? Is that why you're leaving?"

"Kind of," Allen admitted, shrugging, "As usual, he's been cryptic about it so I can only do as he says."

The woman looked like she was holding herself back from throwing a fit at the reason behind his departure. Understandable, he figured. Chomesuke never liked the Black Order. Maybe it had to do with his Master being the one to modify her inner programming or maybe it had to do with her very nature as a demon that she couldn't stand the Order, but either way, Chomesuke could never quite stand the place. Of course, she had the mind to regard the exorcist differently depending on how they treat her but the Black Order as a whole was something she couldn't tolerate.

"Be careful," she said softly. "I'll take care of your apartment for the time being so make sure you come back, alright?"

He smiled and nodded, tucking the small box under his arm. "I will."

Chomesuke smiled back before she found her gaze falling on the box. "What will you be doing with it?"

"I'll open it later," he replied. "I can only guess what's inside right now but since Master didn't mention anything about it, it's probably alright if I don't open it for a while."

"Okay. See you, Allen."

"See you." He waved and tucked the box under his arm, leaving through the front door with a small smile which was quick to fade into a frown once he was once again reminded the reason for his departure.

He threw a slightly wistful glance over his shoulder, towards the glass of the closed doors and seeing Chomesuke cheerfully waving her arm, before making his way to a familiar coffee shop which he frequented at. His pounding head told him that he was in dire need of caffeine in his system and he'd gain more than he'd lose if he visited, as he usually did in that place.

Shoving the hand that wasn't holding the box inside his pocket, he walked at a brisk pace and took a couple of turns, most involving him ducking into alleys and going through the backdoors of unusually shady stores. At more than several points of his walk, men whom one wouldn't expect to be of his acquaintance nodded towards his direction in acknowledgement, some stopping to smile and greet him, the others preferring to ruffle his hair like a man would to a dog. Allen took it all in stride, answering to those who asked and basically just being a courteous and polite teenager. Nobody dared to comment on this odd display of familiarity; Allen expected them not to. This place was generally avoided by the ordinary crowd for the constant and remarkably notorious rumors of kidnapping and murders taking place in this particular district. It happened often, not with the people who inhabited the place. A mix of foreign Mafia and yakuza, several wanted gangs that were suspects of thievery and missing people whom most have assumed to be dead, and a hefty amount of other people who are most likely involved in something equally dangerous roamed the streets of this district day and night. Allen himself was a part of that group of people though it was, at the very moment, a mystery to even infamous information brokers which specific circle he belonged in and what his position was. There _was_ a reason to why Chomesuke had to stand guard to his apartment. And really, honestly speaking, even if he wasn't a part of this district, he'd _still_ need Chomesuke because being related to someone as severely hated as Cross Marian would instantly make him a target for assassination.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts once he caught sight of the familiar beige-colored building just by the end of the street. He smiled a little at the faint scent of coffee that carried through the short distance between him and the slightly parted doors. In front of the cafe was a child with electric blue hair slicked back, revealing a circular mark on his forehead that took on a bluish tint the same shade of his hair. It only took a few moments before the child was looking at Allen and he was grinning brightly, the door closing with a soft chime behind him,

"Oh! Are you having your usual, Shorty?"

Allen was quick to step on the brakes of his jog, scowling darkly. "Who the hell are you calling _shorty_ , you brat?"

The child crossed his arms and glared fiercely. "I'm not a brat! And I'll call you Shorty as much as I want! Shor- _aghh_ \- that _hurts_ , _that hurts, that hurts-_ " He struggled fiercely with the hand around his neck and the knuckle that was sharply digging into his skull, not able to do much because as short as Allen was, he was still shorter, and that meant there was no escape unless he activated his Innocence (which he was pretty freaking tempted to do because Allen was a bully) or Allen let him.

"What's with the rucku- Ah, Allen-kun!" Emilia Galmar greeted, completely ignoring the child who was near sobbing and screaming at the woman to have Allen release him with impressive nonchalance, "Are you having your usual?"

"Yes, please," the white-haired teen was quick to reply. He had stopped rubbing his knuckles against the child's head but he still held him firmly within one arm. "That would be really nice."

The child huffed. "You probably stayed up late again to drink."

Allen blinked, admittedly surprised. Emilia herself looked curious.

"That's amazing, Timothy. How did you know?" he asked, slightly letting up on his hold around the child's neck.

Timothy snorted. "Have you ever heard of mirrors? Use one. Because you look like shit."

" _Timothy_!" Emilia yelped. "Watch your language!"

For his part, Allen looked quite bothered. "But don't you always say that I look terrible?"

Confused, Timothy glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Huh? Yeah. I mean, you don't look that bad but you look like crap right now."

Emilia caught on a major flaw - though not necessarily untrue - in his reply and tried to suppress her laughter with a cough behind her hand. Allen smiled brightly.

"Ah, so does that mean you think I don't look bad?"

"I-" Timothy stopped, eyes widening in realization and cheeks turning a hot red as he roughly pushed Allen's arm away with a scowl that was ruined by the flush of his cheeks. "I- YOU- YOU LOOK LIKE- EMILIA'S DOG! THAT DAMN POODLE! NOT GOOD- YOU JUST LOOK BADDER TODAY SO DON'T GET SO COCKY, YOU SHORT SHRIMP-"

" _Timothy_ ," Allen and Emilia chorused while barely managing to conceal their amusement in their expressions. As Timothy turned to give them the finger and leave, Emilia couldn't take it anymore and laughed until she was desperately gripping at one of the chairs positioned outside the cafe, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and a gasping mess because Timothy just looked so _red_ and embarrassed and he _rarely_ ever got embarrassed.

"G-good job, Allen-kun," she managed to say, giving him a weak thumbs up from where she was crouching. "T-that was," she made an unlady-like snort, "A christmas m-miracle and a _half_."

Allen laughed with her and returned the gesture before offering a hand for the woman who looked like she was just about ready to fall on the ground and continue laughing at Timothy's face for the next three years. "You are welcome, Emilia-san. But for now, maybe we might have to get inside." He glanced around them and they both noted the audience Timothy had gathered after screaming.

"R-right," she replied and hastily pulled herself to her feet.


	3. Chapter 3

"The _Black Order_?" Emilia repeated incredulously as she tightly held on to the edge of the silver tray with both hands, expression twisting into one of apprehension before swiftly morphing into anger that wasn't really directed towards Allen himself. She had always been an expressive woman, something which the white-haired teen found himself admiring in more than one occasion whenever he comes to visit. He had adapted to dealing with most things like he would while playing poker which, as most people had told him, made him very unreadable and extremely difficult to embarrass or anger during a conversation. Hell, as far as they knew, the only man capable of such a feat was Cross Marian himself and that was some sort of exception to the list because the man was _fucking_ hideous. "But aren't they- gathering people who are-"

"Holders of Innocence fragments," Allen somberly finished, grimly looking into his cup.

"Just like Timothy," Emilia murmured with fear lacing her tone. "What- what will happen once you…?"

He smiled grimly. "To be honest, I really don't know."

"What do you mean you _don't_ know? This is the _Black Order_ we're talking about, Allen-kun!"

Allen sighed. "It's one of Master's cryptic orders. I don't know what to expect, either. The manifestation of Innocence has changed drastically throughout the years, and demons have long since ceased to exist, so it isn't entirely clear what the Black Order really _exists_ for."

"Then isn't that dangerous?" Emilia asked, aggravated, as she started leaning over the table to pin Allen with a look that most certainly said, ' _Pull the fuck back right now, young man._ ' He had always thought it was scary how she could silence Timothy with a _look_ and keep a cafe standing strong in the midst of a city where prowlers who make up most of what people see on the news exist and roam. This, right now especially, stood true.

Still, however, Emilia simply couldn't compare to the terror that is his master.

Cross was simply an entirely different league of evil and horror.

"Everything is dangerous, Emilia-san," Allen reasoned, wrapping his hands around his cup securely, taking in the warmth of his ordered beverage. "Don't worry; I'm going to be okay." _I have to be okay,_ he doesn't say, or _Master will have my head on a fruitbowl to bring with him in India._ "My line of work is even worse than simply playing an unfortunate child who was granted with an insane ability to... _see_."

Emilia's gaze was blank and uncomprehending the first few seconds before she caught on and looked at his left eye with a face of understanding, her scowl letting up to turn into a slight grin.

"That's evil, Allen-kun," she said, chuckling.

"I've heard people call me worse."

Emilia left his table, reassured by the promise of Allen being more than capable of handling himself despite the danger of his task, and began answering to other tables with a bright smile on her face. Her tense shoulders had relaxed and she seemed pretty content with what she heard to be the truth, only that Allen wasn't so sure she'd appreciate to know that he wasn't as confident as he sounded. There was only so much he could wish to go his way before his real identity was exposed. Knowing Cross, he'd be very secretive about the matter and leave some poor man to shoulder the responsibility of keeping it that way for as long as needed, and that man seemed to be the Head Officer of the Black Order.

 _It isn't a lie, though_ , he thought as he touched the red jagged scar that ran down the left side of his face, cutting through the area inches above his eyebrow and his left eye before dipping to the side of his cheek and sliding down a few inches from the corner of his mouth. _If his goal is to get me to be a member of the Black Order without the option of getting in through a recommendation, then I will have to prove myself capable without laying all of my cards on the table._

It was a sound plan, actually. Even if he disliked his master's methods and personality, he was a man to be trusted when it came to these matters and he honestly doubted Cross would haul his ass into the Black Order with the expectation that Allen would reveal everything that he had on himself.

He finished his cup of coffee before he knew it and he stood up, preparing to leave with the box under his arm once more, when Emilia suddenly came running through the door and frantically looking for someone who, after a few seconds of searching, turned out to be Allen himself.

Allen quickly made his way to Emilia who, once he was within her reach, dragged her outside the cafe with surprising strength and led them towards the back of the shop across the cafe.

"What's wrong, Emilia-san?" Allen panted.

"It's- it's Timothy," she said, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes for an entirely different reason as she did just half an hour ago, "I was wondering why he hasn't come back yet to help and when I looked for him, he was being dragged by a person with- with long hair and the Black Order's sigil on their coat." She looked at him over her shoulder, torn between fear and anger. "Allen-kun, what if they've come to take him away? What if they're here because- because Timothy has-  
she cut herself off, looking extremely terrified by the likely possibility. "Oh, god. Please- please don't- I can't let them take away Timothy, too!"

"I won't allow them to take Timothy," Allen said. "I promise." And he meant it.

Emilia held his gaze and nodded determinedly. Then she faced forward and murmured a prayer, hoping with all her heart that Timothy was safe.


End file.
